


dust the cracks in my heart with stardust, make me anew

by happyisahabit



Series: Starlight Collection [4]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/M, Kissing, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11468028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: Childhood friends Maka Albarn and Blake 'BlackStar' Sterling go on a road trip all across Nevada in a beat-up jeep. Their final destination is the Fly Geyser, a beautiful rainbow landmark, before Maka leaves for grad school. Along the way, they feel a sense of urgency to get their personal feelings off their chest. // Reverb 2017





	1. Day 1: you can take the girl out of Nevada but

**Author's Note:**

  * For [L0chn3ssi3](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=L0chn3ssi3).



> I hope you enjoy my fic for l0chn3ss's wonderful art! She let me go a little overboard, but this was such a joy to write for her. I hope you like it!

The flight from Vegas is a short one, but the small 12 passenger aircraft it uses always makes Maka a little nervous. The Battle Mountain airport is tiny and doesn’t consist of more than a single terminal and runway. With such a small waiting platform, she could see from the top of plane’s stairway the bright shock of blue hair she was looking for. It takes only a few minutes to cross the tarmac and suddenly she’s swooped up in a quick hug from her best friend. 

Blake Sterling was an eclectic guy, able to fit right in at a college rager, a rodeo, and Starcraft gameathon- all on the same weekend. Most of his friends called him ‘BlackStar’ because of his gaming handle, but Maka had called him ‘Star’ long before he’d ever had a hand on a controller. In a story their fathers loved to retell, she had adorably tripped over his last name when trying to scold him for taking the last cookie. Instead of being put down by her use of his full name, baby Blake had latched onto the word ‘star’ and never let go, though up until their teenage years (when he earned the money for a GameCube by doing yard work), she’d been the only one allowed to call him that. 

“Welcome back to Cowboy Country, Mak!” he grins, grabbing her lone suitcase and digging for his keys. “Why didn’t you tell your dad you were coming back from your internship today? And why did I have to keep my mouth shut?”

“Ugh, you remember what happened when I left, right?” She watches the memory replay in his eyes as his face starts to twist into an evil grin.

“What, you didn’t want a grown man crying and shouting? I’m sure for your return he would have brought out a banner and confetti like when we came back from summer camp that one year.” The reminder of the glitter and paper shavings taking forever to pick out of her hair and finding pieces of it in every corner of her house for the next year comes quickly. “Ahahaha you should see the look on your face right now!”

She grumbles as she climbs into the front seat of his car. He hops in after depositing her suitcase in the trunk and elbows her lightly as he fires up the ignition.

“Welcome home, Maka.”

\----

Maka holds her boots  and socks in one hand and a duffle bag in place on her shoulder as she pads near the settled parts of the floor out of her house. It’s the crack of dawn and while her father was surprised to the point of foaming at the mouth last night, it’s time to go. Part of the reason to even come back earlier than she said was because of the road trip she’d planned with Blake to make up for not being home the summer after their college graduation.

“Good morning, Maka.”

She shrieks and slips, crumpling to the ground with her bag and boots. “Papa?! What are you doing up?”

“I was so excited by your arrival last night I couldn’t sleep. Going somewhere?” Spirit Albarn sits at the dining room table, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. At her stunned silence, he sighs and gets up to move into the attached kitchen. “I guess you’re at that age. I don’t like you hanging out with boys- don’t give me that face, I’m supposed to say that, I’m your father! -but I guess… if it really had to be someone, Blake is fine.” He hands a paper bag to her. The sticker tips her off that it is the one bakery in town that would be open at this hour of the morning.

“Thanks, Papa,” she says, noting that the bag is still a little warm. “We’ll be gone ten days. Sid knows.”

“Yeah, he seemed to be the only one… well, don’t forget to text when you get places with service and don’t do anything I would!” Her father’s smile is a tad self-depreciating, but mostly filled with trust in her, something he hadn’t really displayed before she left for her internship, trying to keep her as close by as possible. Maybe her absence this summer and this trip were helping solidify that she was her own person to him.

In a wave of affection for her father, Maka leans up and pecks him on the cheek before making a beeline for the door. When he calls after her to use protection and to not canoodle with strange men, she yells back. “Not necessary!”

The Barrett-Sterling home is just down the street and Maka’s bare feet make short work of the well known path. Blake, who normally wouldn’t be awake before noon on a free day for anything, is there, leaning against his old beat-up Jeep in the early daybreak. The car is scratched and scuffed, but it got the two of them through high school and undergrad. She stuffs the pastry bag into his hand in greeting as she tosses the duffle in the back. The paper rustles as she waves at his adoptive father Sid through their kitchen window.

“We’re not packing a whole lot for a ten day trip, you know… your list was kinda short.”

“Morning to you, too, Mak. Ooh chocolate croissant!” He pulls the pastry out and crinkles the bag closed before tossing it. She bobbles it as he grins. “I’ve got everything else we need already so get in. Time to take the baby on one last adventure.”

\----

There was really no reason to leave as early as they did, but Maka savors the rising sun’s increasing warmth on her skin as they cruise east on the highway. To her, it looks like they’re driving straight into the ball of gold and white light. Blake had left the Jeep’s paneling off for this stretch and the wind whips through her hair as she reaches for the volume dial. Blake’s iPod is plugged in through the auxiliary and a quick scroll finds a list he’s labelled ‘Road Trippin’’. She snorts and presses play, listening to the familiar opening to LMFAO’s Party Rock.

“This is my jam, hot damn!” he yells, pounding on the steering wheel.

“Of course it is! You  _ made _ this playlist, idiot!”

Either way, they burn through songs, Blake pretending to complain about her voice, but making even worse impressions of the singers than she did, putting on a horrible falsetto for any female vocals. Their destination for the day is Elko for an event Sid used to take them to as kids: the Silver State Stampede. The rodeo is the oldest in Nevada, having started in 1913, and showed off the best cowboys Nevada had to offer. Bull riding, ranching technique and a trade show were the main attractions, but the food stands were abundant and live music filtered through the area all afternoon into evening. After they drop their bags off at the motel for the night, Maka digs out a flannel from her bag and wraps it around her waist for later. 

The Stampede is just down the road so they walk slow towards the venue, chatting about their jobs over the summer. Blake was hired right out of college to work as a backend programmer for an energy company, optimizing their code and specs behind the scenes. The job didn’t require him to be in person or work during particular hours of the day since the company was nationwide, giving him some leeway to work as the night owl he was. Her own work was as a junior architect and she’d decided to get a little experience with site management on the ever changing skyline in Vegas before shipping out for her graduate work in California. Before they really got into what they’d done up until their reunion, the entrance ticket booth came into sight.

“Time to see if summer in the city drained all the wild out of you…”

“Hey! It was only three months!”

Tickets paid for, Blake makes a beeline for the food stands, picking out the fry bread vendor immediately. Traditions were traditions and Maka had plenty of fond memories of eating the sugary treat at the rodeo. As was usual, they got the white powder everywhere and patted their hands free of the sugar dust when they were done. Blake slings his arm over her shoulder and they make their way to the stalls showing leatherworking and beading. Silver filigree and artisan crafted spurs showed their best wares. Blake got himself a new cowboy hat, the brim dipping low over his face as he tipped it at her playfully. She just laughs at his ridiculousness and challenges him to a target game.

“Sure thing, little lady, but don’t get cross when I whoop your ass.”

“Like you’ve ever beat me at this… you may be good with a gun in Halo, but this is something else altogether,” she says as they line up next to each other with the toy rifles. “I’m gonna win that hat off your head.”

“Oh? And what do I get if I win?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The targets begin to move. “You won’t.”

Two minutes later, Maka snatches the hat off his head, tugging on her pigtails until they’re low enough for the hat. “Told you so!”

“I’m gonna say I didn’t have proper motivation. How can I want to win if I don’t even know what I’m winning?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Star.” Her arms are stuck trying to pull her flannel on when he grabs her around the middle and starts off for the stadium.

She fumbles for the hat and to get her arms all the way into the sleeves as her legs flail when she’s tossed over his shoulder. He pinches the back of her leg and she yelps and smacks his back when he just laughs out, “Who’s sore now, huh?”

By the end of the night, they’re covered in dust from the arena and a little hoarse from cheering on their favorite riders of the night. The banter flows and Blake steals the hat back from her as they head back to the hotel. When he pulls on one of her pigtails, she kicks dirt at him and he starts running. They push each other on the way through the door and collapse on the nearest of the two mattresses. Maka shoves a pillow in his face and guns it back for the bathroom, snagging her bag on the way. The lock clicks just as Blake’s hand bangs on the door.

“Maka, I have to piss!” 

“Go in the lobby!”

“You suck!”

When they’re both dirt-free and in their pajamas, the excitement of the day catches up to them. They brush their teeth in relative peace, reaching around each other to spit into the single sink and grab floss. The  _ today was fun _ is unnecessary and left unsaid as they bade each other ‘goodnight’ and Blake flicks the light off.

\--

**“** Hey. ...Mak.” Some rustling greets his ears. “You up?”

“Am now.”

“I’m… uh. Still hungry?” more rustling and joints cracking respond as Maka lifts her arm and slams it down on the alarm clock on the nightstand between their beds. She groans at the red numbers that reflect off her eyes.

“It’s 2:03 am, Star…”

“So?”

Ten minutes later finds them in the diner across the street, open 24/7. They’re still in their pajamas, though the athletic shorts and hoodies don’t make it obvious. Maka has her hood over a messy bun of hair and Blake orders from the waitress as they take their seats. Normally, she’d be mad about someone ordering for her, but because Maka’s mouth still feels cottony from sleep and they’ve done this more times than she can count, she doesn’t take it personally. Slouched in the booth across from each other, they wait in sleepy silence until a plate of fries and two shakes are placed between them.

The chocolate one is hers and the cookies and cream is for Blake, but as always, it doesn’t stop them from dipping the fries or sipping from just one. They eye each other suspiciously whenever one shake gets lower than the other. After one particularly generous dip of four fries, Maka swipes her shake away from Blake’s reach. He just grins and sticks his tongue out, chocolate-dyed fry mash coating his tongue. She squeaks with disgust and throws a fry at his face. He chokes around his laughter and the food, grinning after he swallows it. They slurp the final dregs of milkshake around 3 am and leave cash on the table. The lone waitress on duty waves back on their way out and the pair roll themselves back across the street, passing out immediately once greeted with facefulls of pillow.


	2. Day 2: highways and byways

Between Elko and Eureka is over 100 miles of high plateau, where the surrounding mountains look flattened by the altitude and the shrubbery lies low. Trees are scarce and the road waves in the distant heat, painting the landscape with mirage after mirage. 278 is not a major highway, being only a two lane road, but Maka prefers that as they cruise with the roof off and the windows down. Blake’s playlist is blaring and she just can’t stop laughing at the seemingly random songs he’s thrown together. While Smash Mouth was not really related to Gloria Gaynor nor The Pussycat Dolls, it made the drive that much more interesting.

The midmorning light is pretty good, though, so Maka pulls out her camera, shooting the mountains as they go by in ‘hi-speed photography’. She’d told Blake over breakfast that her focus for the master’s she was planning to start in the fall was nature-inspired architecture. Something about the organic design of the earth really called to her. Exploring the ways nature built itself up was key to creating architecture that would remind people of the natural world and of life outside the city.

She’s drawn out of her photography world when Miley Cyrus’s Party in the USA’s guitar riff cuts through her thoughts, along with a poke in the side from Blake. His voice is in a falsetto, nasally and loudly. She really can’t help the snort she lets out.

“And the Britney song was oooon, and the Britney song was OOOON!”

“Hahaha this is so much better!” she laughs as he bops to the music in increasingly dramatic car-seat dancing. He taps the steering wheel in time with the beat and sings at her until the next break.

“What’s so much better? My voice?” He glances over for a split second before grinning cheekily. “We all know I sing better than you!”

She smacks him in the arm for that one and he overreacts like she was causing him problems driving on the lonely road.

“No, you idiot! It’s better to be here, than over the phone or on Skype.”

The admission seems to take him off guard as he stops humming to glance over again. This grin is more self-satisfied than anything else and all the more reason to punch him in the arm again.

\-----

Eureka lies at the junction of 278 and the loneliest highway in America, Route 50. Aside from the salt mine and cowboy showcase for tourists, there isn’t much there, but Blake pulls into a space on Main Street across from the old Eureka Opera House. Next door is a dingy looking pub with a name that understandably attracted his attention: Malarkey. Before he can make one joke using the word, she slaps a hand over his mouth. She doesn’t let go until they’re across the street and inside and is rewarded by him leaning down to whisper in her ear, ‘that was malarkey, Maka.’ She tries to suppress her groan as the lady behind the bar waves them in.

Blake is eying the pool tables so Maka takes the chance to order some food from the bar, grabbing some sodas for the both of them. Somehow in the span of the two minutes this takes her, Blake is already laughing and chatting with some random locals, leaning on a pool cue like he comes here every Thursday for poker night. She lets out an amused huff, shaking her head fondly.

“That’s some bright hair that boy’s got; matches his personality, doesn’t it?” The voice coming from her side is a young woman with wavy red hair pulled into a high ponytail, looking amusedly at the small group of men talking with Blake.

“That’s just how Star- I mean, Blake is,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Maka.”

“Well, Maka, what do you say we take these boys down a peg?” The woman takes her hand in a firm grip and smirks. “The name’s Anna.”

“Sounds perfect.”

One of the men talking to Blake turns out to be Anna’s husband Jake of five years and he pairs with her blue-dyed friend happily. The girls play stripes while the boys get solids. Jake tries to pull off increasingly tricky shots, getting in only about half of them since his wife blatantly tries to distract him. Maka doesn’t bother to do more than stare Blake down with a look of amusement, which is only enhanced when he misses his shots-  _ oh how cute, you missed! _

Of course immediately after, she lines up her shot, doing the geometry in her head. Math is all well and good and her shots always follow the lines she wants, but the power is either too much or too little. She tries not to look at Blake when this happens because that  _ aw how sweet _ look is right there on his face as well. She’s polishing her sandwich off while Anna canoodles with her man on the side when Blake lines up across the table for his next shot. They only have one solid left to get in before they can go after the 8-ball.

He catches her eye and holds her gaze as he slowly lowers over the table and lines up his shot. Those electric blue eyes are locked on her except for a singular moment he takes to line up the shot. His mouth twitches into a confident grin, lopsided and making his cheek dimple. Maka shifts in her seat under his attention. The sound of the cue ball hitting another snaps her out of the moment and he straightens. It went in.

“Callin’ it, left corner pocket.” He taps the table with his cue to show his intent and slowly walks around the table as she watches from the stool she’s perched on. Anna is whistling and Jake is egging Blake on as he turns his back to her on her side of the table. Unnecessarily slow, Blake stretches over the table, giving Maka a perfect view of his ass and back. She bites her lip and Anna winks at her. The sound of pool balls clacking together breaks her thoughts again. Blake’s team wins.

When he turns around, his grin is triumphant and teasing. He reaches over her to place the cue back on the wall’s rack, caging her in. She pulls on her best unimpressed face as he quirks an eyebrow at her and leans down to take a sip out of her straw.

“I win.”

As he goes to pay their tab, Maka stuffs the straw in her mouth because Anna chooses that exact moment to crowd into her space, nudging her and waggling her eyebrows. Maka noisily finishes the drink and ignores her in favor of shaking her husband’s hand.

“Good game.”

“Yeah, you guys are fun-“ “-and super cute!”

Before she can sputter out a response that they have the wrong impression, Blake appears, hooking an arm around her shoulder. He grabs her wrist and pushes it in front of her face as he says his goodbyes.

“I didn’t realize it was this late already! We should go; thanks for the game!”

Anna calls after them as they exit the bar: “Safe travels, lovebirds!”

“Anna-honey, don’t tease…”

\---

To avoid talking about what may or may not have been said by their new friends in Malarkey’s (and it truly was malarkey, she thinks, for now), Maka focuses her camera on the landscapes bathed in the light of golden hour. There’s more foliage in this area as they wind through the high hills and wide valleys. She sneaks a glance at Blake, only to find that his profile is lit with the hue of the sun, blending his freckles into tan skin and discoloring the hair he dyes aqua. Before she can think, she’s pulling the lens up.

His posture is relaxed, one arm propped on the door sill and the other hand curled on the wheel. His face is without tension, a small smile on his face. After the shutter clicks, his eyes flash over at her.

“Hey, I’m not a mountain, why are you taking my photo?”

“I just want to have something to remind me of this trip… and how quiet you’re capable of being.”

“Quiet? Me? Oh, Mak, you wound me…!”

America’s loneliest highway is a little less lonesome when her camera is filling with shots of her driver making silly faces and laughing with her.

\---

It takes him 15 minutes to realize that Maka has fallen asleep, slouched in her seat. He rolls their windows up to stop the wind from whipping her hair mercilessly and it is at that moment he notices the fuel gage. Damn, they’re going to have to stop before they reach their destination. Thankfully, after another 100 miles, they’ve just about reached Osceola. The road noise dies as he presses the brakes and he turns the tunes down as he scouts out a gas station with the lowest price.

As he fuels up his beat up jeep, Maka twitches in her seat, curling into a ball. He suppresses a laugh, she just looks so cute. He grabs her hoodie out of the back and hooks it over her shoulder. That’s when Blake notices her camera. It’s loosely in her grip and he wonders if he can grab it without her noticing. The gas station is pretty empty except for a family in a minivan so he runs into the small convenience store, picking up some snacks- Doritos for him and white cheddar popcorn for her- and a pack of gum. He makes it back before the family leaves and no one new has shown up that could potentially mess with Maka.

The camera is right there, dammit. Stuffing the snacks in the designated food bag, he eases the camera out of her hand. When he focuses the lens, he sees the small path of drool on her cheek.

“That shouldn’t be so cute,” he murmurs, pushing the shutter button and immortalizing Maka’s wind-whipped hair and face smooshed into the seat back. He admires the shot for a second before storing her camera in her backpack and popping the jeep into gear. “But oh how I’m going to make sure you never forget you drool.”

Thirty minutes later they’re almost to the campsite he’s picked out for the night and Maka blurrily comes back to the land of the wakeful.

“Ugh… when’s the next town? I hafta pee.”

“Good evening, sunshine, I’m sorry to say you’ll have to go out the window.”

“What. Did. You. Say?”

“You missed it. Time to go out the window, sunshine!”

“Star, if you don’t pull over right now, I’m going to piss all over your car. Look, there’s some bushes- here, here!”

He can’t help cackling as he turns the wheel. He’s barely stopped the car when she jumps out using her phone to light the way.

“Don’t you dare come over here!”

“You couldn’t hold it for the next ten minutes? We’re almost at the campsite!” He yells as he digs through his duffel in the trunk.  She’s barely intelligible as she screeches at him, but he just laughs and throws a roll of toilet paper where he can hear her voice coming from. The response is a quiet thump, followed by a ‘THANKS, JACKASS.’

Bullseye.

\---

“You brought a tent, right?” she asks, munching on her favorite snack, the peace offering Blake had somehow had the foresight to purchase at the gas station. She’s a little indignant that it’s so easy to mollify her, but then again, she feels a lot better without her bladder about ready to explode. “Right? You have one, don’t you, Star?”

They come to a stop on the cleared dirt of a campsite without him saying a word. She doesn’t have a sleeping bag because  _ he _ told her she wouldn’t need one. She should really stop trusting him on making a proper packing list. When he turns in his seat, unbuckling, he reaches under her legs and jerks the lever. Suddenly, she’s staring at the sky and a woven blanket is being thrown over her.

“You can’t be serious. We’re going to get the worst stiff necks.”

He shoves his own seat back and pulls on a hoodie, the chill of the high desert summer setting in. “C’mon, Mak, we’re sleeping under the stars, this is more roughing it than setting up a camp. Besides, that would take forever.”

“You’re such a loser.”

“Actually, I’m preeeetty sure I won today’s match.”

She groans and flops on her side to dig through her bag in the back. With a soft exclamation of excitement, she pulls out a scarf, one long multicolored loop of blue. It looks soft and Blake stares quietly as the fabric is looped around her neck and she reties her hair. When she burrows under the blanket- home-knit by Sid’s cousin Mira- he turns his eyes skyward again.

The still of the forest settles around them like a fog of soft sounds and twinkling starlight. The Milky Way pours above them in a wide streak against the inky black of space. The lightness of the stars is weighed down by its expansiveness and that heavy feeling creeps into their bones, anchored to the earth only by the sound of each other’s breath. There is a single deep moment that Maka feels is lost to her when her eyes flutter open again. The sky is still dark and sparkling, but the rustling to her left and the click of a door reveals Blake is awake. She listens for a beat as he hums and stretches onto the back seat.

What an idiot, can’t plan at all.

“There’s plenty of room if you don’t mind an idiot who can’t plan.” She must have said it out loud, but with the weight of the forest and sky on her heart, she just folds the well-loved blanket around herself like a shawl and crawls over the center console, popping her seat forward again. They press back to back but she’s too close to the edge and talking out loud again. Some shifting later, they’re face to face, her scarf smothering his mouth and nose.

He grumbles as he unloops it until the scarf is unwrapped and tucks the thick fabric around his own head. His breath is on her face, warm and smelling a little like doritos under the spearmint of the gum he had while they stargazed. She can’t be bothered by it when she’s so warm, the blanket tucked around the pair of them. The comfortable heat and the muted forest sounds lull them back to sleep like the ocean tide pulls waves back from the shore.


	3. Day 3: worth a million words

The sun rises on Great Basin Park early, rays of light filtering between pines and prying open the eyes of Maka and Blake. She laces her hiking boots as Blake stuffs water jugs and snacks into his backpack on top of the first aid kit they always carried after that incident hiking in the backwoods near their houses. No one wanted a repeat of the two of them skidding down a steep hill of shale and cutting up legs and hands. Bleeding into one's socks was never fun.

So Maka loops her camera strap around her neck and sneaks an arm past Blake to shove a spare battery into the side pocket of the bag. He just sighs and slips the bag on with a well-worn smirk of amusement.

"What am I? Your pack mule?"

"Well, if the backpack fits," she quips back as she tugs him around by the straps and sticks a pair of baseball caps into the pocket. With a loud zip, she closes the bag and gives him a tap on his backside. "Giddy up."

He sticks his tongue out, but starts down the trail anyway. The morning light is great for photography and the lack of other people on the beaten path makes them stop to admire the scenery more. After a while, Blake starts to feel that the comfortable forest sounds and Maka's silence need to switch volumes. The best way to get her to talk to him right now is to get in her way.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to realize that what really makes the scene is me."

"Oh yeah?" She leans her weight to the side and throws a hand on her hip and Blake strikes a 'thoughtful' pose.

"I thought I'd get into modeling on the side, you know," he says, chancing a glance at her, breaking his 'concentrated' look at the woods around them. His joking has paid off as Maka's deadpan face is cracking into amusement. When she starts smiling and shaking her head, he knows he's won. Her lens turns on him fully and he waits until after the shutter clicks to rapidly hit another pose, this one much more expressive than the previous.

He throws his arms out like he's on the Titanic and he balances on one leg like he's a ballerina as her camera clicks and her laughter grows. The sound reverberates through the trees with each new pose and it's the most natural sound he's ever heard. He can feel his chest swell with her giggles and he beams when she has to take a break from shooting because she's laughing too hard.

"Okay, okay, breathe, Mak!"

"Pffft... This... haha is all! -oh my gosh- ahaha, YOUR heh fault!"

"Damn straight it is!" He grins again as he spots some rocks behind her. "Alright, last one for free, then I'm gonna start charging."

She's trying so hard to stifle herself as he strides past her, but she just feels so light. The air is crisp and she has a reel full of ridiculous pictures she will use for blackmail later. Well, if it was possible to blackmail Blake. She knows he doesn't actually mind, but having the collateral gives him an excuse whenever she wants his help with something. As she turns around, she sees him bending over to put his hands on the ground. With a small grunt, he flips himself upside down. In a perfect handstand, she's almost impressed, if he hadn't been doing this sort of thing since they were kids. Or if he hadn't stuck his face in such an obviously fake expression of exertion.

Her puff of laughter is cut off when the force of gravity does its magic, dragging down the loose cotton of his tank and exposing exactly why he can so easily do a handstand. Maka bites her lip and hides her face behind the camera as her eyes drift along Blake's abdomen. She really shouldn't be ogling, but she can't help it; her best friend is built. He readjusts his hands and the shirt falls further, covering his face. Maka forgets the heat in her cheeks and snaps the photo as he tries and fails to blow the fabric away from his face. Eventually, he gives up and tucks into a roll, landing with legs splayed out and looking very put out. The pout is cute and she can't wait to compare the photo to one she knows Sid has on his fridge at home of 3 year old Blake whose balloon animal popped when he played too rough with it.

"Star, you weirdo."

He dusts off his hands and stalks towards her, eyes gleaming. She doesn't like the way he's looking at her, if only because it promises mischief. He lunges forward and they grapple for the camera. Maka relents just to be sure that it doesn't break and suddenly the lens is focused on her. Blake is circling her, pointing the camera while squinting behind the view-finder despite the LCD screen being on. He's doing an incredibly good impression of Mike Myers in Austin Powers, shouting out phrases like 'Oh yes, you're a tiger, a wild cat, baby!' and 'Yes, yes, yes, no! NO! YES!'  She can barely keep up and her poses are far less inspired than his were. Trying to turn to follow him in his crazed circles is almost pointless and is making her dizzy in a giddy sort of way.

"Look, I'm not even looking at the camera! I'm not even pointing it at you!" he says, camera pointed out to the side, snapping away probably blurry and lopsided photos of the forest. "Aaannnnd I'm spent!"

He mimics the movie and pretends to throw the camera behind him. While she knows that he would never do that, she surges forward anyway. Just as she collides with his chest, hands closing on his wrists yet still laughing, Blake cheerily greets someone over her shoulder.

A park ranger is there, looking amused.

"You folks having a good day?"

Blake just smiles as Maka's hands continue to grip his wrists, reading the surprise and embarrassment on her face. "Oh yeah. It's a great day, even."

"You know what trail you're on and how to get back? You have enough water and electrolytes?"

"Yes, sir!" Maka squeaks. Blake snorts and she kicks him in the shin.

"Well, stop by the visitor center or ranger stations if you need anything," the man says, nodding at them. He adds with a knowing grin, "And be- _ have _ ."

It isn't until the ranger is almost out of sight around the bend that Blake snorts causing them both to lose it entirely. They crumple to the ground, a heap of laughing limbs, running high on endorphins.

\---

The plentiful sunshine of the morning does not last. Just as the pair starts to make their way back, a summer storm rolls in with all the delicacy of a chainsaw. The rain in the high desert and surrounding plateaus is relentless, fierce and pounding. Maka and Blake run for it, mindful to not slip on the path. Blake grabs the camera back from Maka and stuffs it in their backpack before tucking it into his chest.

As is the case with such storms, the thunder is loud and the ending just as abrupt as the beginning. Not even a hundred yards from Blake's beat up Jeep, the line of the monsoon passes. Thankfully, Maka had suggested pulling the covers up on the Jeep to fend off potential wildlife scrounging for food, or everything they brought with them would have been soaked. As it was, they themselves were drenched head to toe, socks sloshing in boots and clothes clinging to skin.

Blake balefully looks at the shining sun, mentally asking why. Maka just trudges ahead, shaking and squeezing her pigtails out. She digs out some towels from the back seat, old and patterned with various Disney characters. They're the car's designated towels; not in top shape, but good enough in a pinch, and this certainly was a pinch. Blake follows after, tucking the backpack into the backseat before shucking his shirt and shorts.

Maka stares from under her towel.

Seeing Blake in various states of dress is not that unusual. Even boxers is somewhat normal, but only when she's barging into his room at noon and he hasn't gotten out of bed yet. Sid would send her up to rip his covers off and open all of his blinds. There was a pretty big difference between barely awake Blake and fully conscious Blake.

Barely awake Blake had drool on the side of his mouth that stuck to his pillowcase and a horrible case of bedhead. Fully conscious (and wet) Blake had tousled damp locks and droplets of water streaking down his neck and chest. Barely awake Blake laid sprawled on his bed, a useless lump of a boy. Fully conscious (and dripping) Blake had muscle on display that flexed as he wrung out his wet clothes.

Oh no.

She had to back up a second and take this in perspective. To assume he was doing something like this on purpose... would be a stretch. This was nothing to him. So it should be nothing to her, too.

Maka peels off her own tank top, wringing it out and hanging it over the door of the Jeep. Without looking over and before she can think again, she takes off her shorts, too. Digging through her duffel for another, drier pair, is quick and she's buttoning them up when she realizes all motion to her side has stopped.

Blake stands there, new shorts in his hands, staring. The look on his face is speechless, but she can't immediately tell if it is a good or bad speechless. A single drop of water falls from his hair and she grabs a towel and throws it over his head.

"Don't look, perv! Put some pants on!" She can feel the heat in her cheeks as she stuffs her dry shirt on, ignoring the small damp patches where her sports bra is bleeding into the dry fabric. When Maka turns around again, the towel is still hanging over his head, but his pants are on.

"Mak-" She grabs his head in the towel before he can continue and comment on her previous state of dress. Her hands roughly towel his hair and he splutters nonsense.

Blake's hands shoot up and grab her wrists, wrenching her claws away from his head. The towel falls away, the little mermaid getting muddy from the puddles near the car. Blue meets green as Blake's mouth opens to speak, but clicks shut immediately. Something about his expression is off, something she hasn't seen in it before. Whatever it is, it holds a weight to it that squeezes around her heart a little. His hands loosen on her wrists and his thumbs run across her pulse. She can feel it racing and the heat of his hands draws her in and they're leaning closer and his eyes--

BEEP BEEP!

An obnoxious Hummer barrels through the gravel road, full of younger college students yelling out the window. They pass quickly enough, but the moment is broken.

Blake leans back away, pressing his thumbs into her palms gently. He smiles wryly and steps back to grab his shirt. They finish packing up in silence, heading back onto the road to a diner and hotel for the night. Preferably one with a washer and dryer.


	4. Day 4: shifting gears

The texture of the mottled blues of her scarf presses against her face as Maka sits on the step just outside the front of their motel room. Mira's blanket is wrapped around her shoulder and her knees are brought up into the warm cocoon. The fading night still shows a scattering of stars on the dark canvas and several bright lights she recognizes as the planets they are. The sun is coming, or they're moving towards it, and the growing wakefulness manifests deep in her bones.

It does nothing to ease the itchy feeling that has seeped into her every vein. Proximity to the man still sleeping behind the door and passed out in the second bed is the root of her latest ailment. A symptom of being away from him for the three months of her internship- everything was knocked out of alignment. The distance was too far- she meant it when she said in person was better than skype or over the phone- but now she was too close.

She's unsettled in a way she's never been around him. Maka can't shake the feeling and the discomfort isn't actually uncomfortable at all until she starts to think about it. She wants this, to be this close to Blake. 

While away in Vegas, her work was interesting and fulfilling. She never had a dull day at the architecture firm, always learning and building on what she'd done the day before. This built her confidence in her own work and in herself as a person, but she had missed home horribly. However, she wasn't technically home now. She was on the road in places she hadn't been before or been in years. Yet her heart was full. That void Maka felt as homesickness was easily and totally filled, just by being near her best friend.

Despite that, she thinks, snuggling further into the blanket, she wants more. She needs to be closer, but she's so terrified that this is as close as she can ever get. The smell of Sid's preferred detergent and Blake's body spray seep into her nose, dulled by time in the car and the outdoors. Maka hooks a finger into her scarf and pulls down to press her face into the woven blanket.

The floorboards creak and the thin door opens behind her. Barefeet pad out, attached to a body of stretching limbs and a head of disheveled blue hair. There are lines on Blake's face from sleeping so hard and his voice is low and scratchier when he says, "Got up to piss and you were gone..." He slumps down next to her, elbows on propped knees. She watches his gaze trace aimlessly over the lightening sky. His face is completely relaxed until a chill goes up his spine, shaking him in his athletic shorts and tank. She presses her lips together to smother her amusement.

She barely contemplates whether to tease him or admonish him about his lack of appropriate attire when she's throwing half the blanket around his shoulder. Without missing a beat, Blake's arms slip around her, hands ducking under the hem of her tee. 

"Eeek!" She shivers and sucks in a deep breath as his icy fingers dig into her side. Amusement rumbles through his chest and he tucks her closer. The face pressed into her hair tells her to quiet down, normal people are still sleeping right now. 

The itch returns full force for a moment as her face heats. She is still and silent, barely breathing until he grips the corners of the blanket and pulls, tucking them closer together. His hands return, warmer than before and whatever makes up that cavity in her chest and fuels the discomfort in her head is settled. Bit by bit, she relaxes into his hold, head sinking into the crook of his neck. 

Blake's sigh sounds happy, satisfied, at her compliance and his head shifts to lay on hers. The sun rises in peace.

\----

Blake pouts as Maka cranks the wheel around to put them on the highway. The car seat swap drill did not go well for him. As they waited for the drive-thru line, Maka's hand had cranked the volume up and her door had flown open at the opening chords of the next song. The result was him slamming into the open driver's side door while Maka grinned evilly from the seat, already buckled in and fingers gripping the wheel. She had pulled the car forward as the line moved and he nearly missed getting back in.

So yes, he is a little bitter. His breakfast sandwich is already gone as is the chocolate milk, so he grabs Maka's coffee from the cupholder before she can stop him. He feels better taking a long drag to the sound of her complaining.

His tunes blend into the road noise and he hums as the highway stretches before them. Tonight, they were going out on the strip in Vegas. Blake feels a little weird about delivering Maka right back to where she was all summer, doing who knows what outside of her job. He really shouldn't feel so protective; Maka was her own person and knew how to stand up for herself and get help when needed. Yet the thought of people he didn't know monopolizing her time still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that is totally ruining the victory of stealing her coffee.

"How did you like living here? Get you ready for life in a bigger city?" He almost doesn't want her to say she's ready.

"I don't know. I liked the work, but didn't really like Vegas as a place to live. If anything, it made me..." she trails off, merging in front of the semi they just passed. The silence doesn't indicate she'll continue her thought, so he prods.

"Made you what?"

"...anxious?"

"You, anxious? Why?"

Maka knew this would be asked. She'd always been so self-assured and level-headed to the outside observer, but she knew that under the veneer she puts on display is a core of brash decisions and stubbornness that put her in situations she can't always handle. Out of habit, she rattles off generic responses of fear of moving and change that she had heard from others during the last semester of college. Honestly, Blake shouldn't buy it; she knows her voice is all tight like any other time she's lied, but he stays silent.

When her fake excuses run out, he speaks, but the words of encouragement feel canned.

"You can do it, Mak. If anyone can make that jump alone and succeed, it’s you." The skin on the back of her neck crawls a little with the tang of dishonesty. It sends her into another spiral of self-doubt and she really wants to just turn to the side and check his face for any sign that her ears are deceiving her.

But with the traffic picking up as they near the metropolitan area, she doesn't have the luxury to turn. Their conversation dies off and Blake dials the music up to fill the void. The acoustic guitar fills the air whipping around him, murmuring about a girl thousands of miles away, shining bright. Maka's voice joins in part way and it wafts through his ears and into his heart.

"A thousand miles seems pretty far, but they've got planes and trains and cars. I'd walk to you if I had no other way."

He would. Blake would have walked to Vegas this summer if Maka had needed him to. He bites his lip and joins in.

"The world will never ever be the same and you're to blaaaame! Hey there, Maka, you be good and don't you miss me; two more years and you'll be done with school and I'll be making history like I do," he sings, Maka smiling over at him before returning her gaze to the road. "You'll know it's all because of you."

Oh what did she do to him.

\--

They're in Vegas city limits now, but Blake has passed out in the passenger's seat, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging wide open. Maka just shakes her head as she pulls into a gas station. They weren't in dire need of fuel, but it would be easier to fuel up now than tomorrow morning when she was positive they'd be groggy from a night of bright lights and loud music.

She pulls out her phone to text her dad (and Sid) confirmation that they weren't dead yet. Lips twitching into a smirk, she snaps a photo of Blake's terrible sleeping position and sends it with the text. The tank doesn't take long to fill and she parks in front of the convenience store after. Maka locks the doors and rolls all the windows up before dashing through the store. She exits with a bag of doritos, a pack of spearmint gum, two jugs of water, and some Hostess cupcakes that she will not be sharing.

Blake is still passed out, but he's shifted, back arched somewhat unnaturally as he tries to rest his head on the center console. There are a couple of teenagers hanging out by the ice chest outside that are taking his photo. They aren't even discrete about it so Maka stuffs the food into the backseat and starts stalking towards them with her best bitch face on.

She's somewhat disappointed that it only takes one yell of 'Hey punks!' for them to run panicked.

No one takes photos of Blake sleeping in stupid positions except her.

\--

This hotel they had to book in advance, simply because of the cost of spending a night in Vegas and to still be able to spend some on the strip. Unfortunately, this means it is both sketchy and not of good quality. Maka checks her phone again for the address, wishing it was in the opposite direction. It was closer to the strip than any of the other options and half the price. She thought she could see why.

Beside her, Blake stirs. He wakes with a groan.

"I have to pee so bad right now..."

"Go out the window, Starshine."

"...ugh. Do you really want me to give these people a show? Without charging?"

"Oh my gosh, Star... I'm gonna throw up."

"That may scare off the customers, Mak. But seriously I REALLY need to pee. Can't you just pull in somewhere?"

"Well, Tinkle Star, you are in luck. We're here."

He fidgets in his seat and stares at the building. "...great."

"I'll bring in the febreeze. You still carry disinfectant, right?"

"In the storage compartment of the trunk floor."


	5. Day 5: lights in her eyes

Maka checks the time to find it is just past midnight as she pokes an earring through her ear. Over on the sole bed in the room, Blake is passed out like a starfish, having stretched to take over all available space as soon as she got up from her nap. Their short budget for boarding in Vegas had brought them to a rinky-dink motel with a crushed cockroach still stuck to the wall, a single ‘queen’ bed which she was sure was actually a double, and a cramped loveseat stuck in the corner. After they’d arrived earlier, they both had promptly ignored the loveseat due to several questionable stains on it. Besides, they’d been sleeping just fine in the back of a car; an actual bed was better, right?

Maka walks around the side of the bed and leans over Blake. His face is smooshed into the pillow and his mouth is open a little. And his arms are splayed out, leaving his sides and armpits completely unprotected from her fingers. He flinches at the first poke and she doesn’t let up until he is laughing and curling in on himself. She hits all the little sweet spots on Blake’s sides that make him squirm and thanks the days of their childhood where she first found out he was ticklish. She can barely suppress her grin as he rolls off the other side of the bed, laughter dying off into a stream of unintelligible cursing. He grumbles as he starts digging through the bag he brought in for a different shirt.

When she turns her back to him, Blake takes a moment to look up. The slope of her neck, smoothing into her shoulder, is exposed and he swallows a little. Her hair, though, is still in a pair of cute pigtail buns and his chest blooms with a warm and fuzzy feeling. She could never give up her pigtail lifestyle even if it has been twenty-two years. He tugs the new shirt on and stuffs the old one back in the bag, standing. Maka’s fingers are fumbling with a necklace clasp and, in a moment of courage, he steps forward and takes it from her hands.

He brushes flyaway hairs from her neck lightly, fingers grazing her skin. She can feel his breath warm along her spine as they murmur their plans for the night back and forth. Her entire back is heated from his closeness and she knows if she just leaned back a little, she’d be in his arms. The quiet closeness encompasses her as his hands fall onto her shoulders once the necklace is clasped. She tries to quell the flush she knows she has on her face and takes a deep breath, steeling herself to pull away. For a moment she wants to skip out on the nightlife and stay here in this dingy motel room just like this.

Then she turns around and sees what he’s wearing.

“A tuxedo shirt, Star? Really?”

Blake just grins cheekily as she slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “You know I couldn’t compete with you anyway, so stop complaining!” Before she can process the compliment, he is throwing an arm over her shoulder and leading them out into the night.

\--

Flashes of neon lights and muddled music mix through the late summer air, mingling with a thin haze of smoke that creeps out of the doors of casinos. Maka and Blake move from gambling den to bar in their own rhythm, trying not to get lulled into the tide of a bachelor party or college students too young to drink sneaking into clubs. This next hotel-casino mashup has a set of jumping fountains and just enough space in the area in front of it to dampen the noise from the surrounding buildings.

A street performer has plugged into a portable amp there, guitar riffs smoothing out under his voice as he plays twists on popular music and old classics, trying to rustle up some listeners. When the chords strike Blake’s ear as familiar, he grabs Maka’s hand and tugs her close only to spin her out abruptly. Her ‘eep!’ of indignance dissolves into giggles as he pulls her back into a proper dance hold, hand on the middle of her back between the shoulder blades and the other lifting hers in the air. The giggles aren’t for his dancing style though, they’re for the music- a tango to Nelly Furtado’s Say It Right.

That eccentric fluidity of Blake’s character rises again as he leads her through basic steps and Maka wonders just when he got so good. He certainly only knew how to sway rigidly back and forth the last time she saw him dance at high school prom. Maybe her teasing had pushed him to take a class? Either way, she enjoyed the way he led her around and the stupid smile-grin on his face as he spun her out again or dipped her. She could even forgive him the tuxedo t-shirt as the music brought them to slowly box-stepping around the courtyard.

The neon lights are casting a faint ambient glow around them, but Blake is more concerned with the reflections they make in Maka’s eyes. He is so close, he could do it, he could lean down and kiss her with that gentle smile on her face. The music is slowing and so is time as her hand slips up from his shoulder to the back of his neck. He brings her other hand to join her first and pulls her closer. Her fingers play with the short hair on the back of his neck and the static runs all the way down his spine. They’re moving slower than before, feet barely leaving the ground as they sway, and his hands fall from a more proper dancing position to just above her shorts. Her smile fades as she looks up at him, so open and earnest, the blue and green neon lights flickering in her eyes. He knows his deep breaths are not just from the dancing.

The final chord of the music is punctuated with applause and cheers. Snapped out of his trance, he sees that they’ve amassed a crowd for their new musician friend. Blake can’t help but sigh as he turns back to drop his forehead onto Maka’s for a moment. He spins her out again and bows dramatically, watching out of the corner of his eye as she fumbles into a small curtsey. They drop some cash into the performer’s case and their small crowd follows suit, calling out compliments after them.

Blake pulls her away from the throng by the hand and doesn’t let go.

\--

Maka wakes slowly at ten in the morning, a pair of heavy arms wound around her snuggly. There’s heat against her entire back with Blake tucked around her, his knees pressed into the back of her legs. His stubble itches her neck a little, but the even breaths of sleep that puff against her shoulder and collarbone send her scooting back against him. She’s thankful for the gallon of water she made both of them drink last night, as it seems to have curbed any hangover they may have had, even if they did crash immediately upon return to the motel in their clothes from last night.

The sun is trying its damnedest to penetrate the cheap curtains, but Maka just fumbles for her phone to set an alarm for 10:45. The warm body wrapped around her squirms with her movement and shifts her in his hold, completely pressed into his chest. Maka pulls the wayward cover back up around them and tucks her hands around Blake’s.

Checkout isn’t until noon anyway.

\--

The ghost town of Rhyolite is empty and haunting in the light of the dying sun. Despite barely doing anything but rolling out of the bed and taking showers, the two hour drive had really taken it out of them. Their dinner in Beatty was muted by the general tiredness that had seeped into their bones. It wasn’t that they were bored, but when Maka’s alarm went off, she had turned it off and neither had made a move to leave.

Maka flicked through the images on her phone that she’d gotten from the night before, pausing when she reached a photo of the fountains they’d danced near. Blake had shifted then, face pressing into her shoulder and muscles tightening before releasing her and stretching. His stretch morphed into rolling off his side of the bed. The bathroom door closed and Maka sat up to try and dislodge her hair from her necklace, massaging the places where her bra’s underwire had dug in overnight.

After that, the grogginess and lack of speaking about those moments awake in the morning cast a haze over the pair. Still, even without talking, nonverbal communication seemed to work for them: a poke on the cheek or side here, a tug on the sleeve there, or a eyeroll and wry smile were all that was needed.

That said, Maka was tired of it. If Blake wanted to ignore whatever that was, fine, but she wasn’t going to let it hang over them for the entire day. Now if only there was something to talk about.... She lines up her next shot of the ghost town as she tries to recall something from the guidebook she flipped through on the drive. A trick of the light through her lense strikes inspiration.

“In 1904, Rhyolite was created after some lucky bastard struck gold. The town boomed with build up anticipating that they would all strike it rich,” she says, voice carrying easily over the dead space between her and Blake. He looks up from the rock he was kicking around as she discretely smudges her lens with dirt. “In 1924, the last known resident died, but if you listen carefully, you can still hear voices echoing through the buildings and where they once stood, as if the town had never stopped living.”

She snaps a photo of Blake staring at her when the last drops of sun sink below the horizon. The lighting is perfect.

“Oi, no telling ghost stories in ghost towns; you wanna provoke them?” He walks over casually, but his hands are curled deep in his pockets and his shoulders are slouched forward. He’s timid, scared of something. Oooh, she has him now.

“Provoke them? Of course not,” she says as he steps beside her. She fiddles with the camera to flip through the photos of the town. “Plenty of witnesses have reported surreal experiences here, but there is a common theme in many of them. Just saying it might be true.”

“You’re saying a bunch a people had the same experience even when they didn’t know each other? Get real, Mak.” Was that a tremor in his voice?

She gets to the final picture and bites the inside of her lip to keep from showing her hand.

“They say they see a spirit of a gold prospector who died here after he brought in a trough of gold nuggets for appraisal. Supposedly, he was poisoned by the barber, who then stole the gold.” She hands him the camera in exchange for his flashlight and starts walking back towards the car. “His ghost is commonly seen as a brown shadow with a big floppy hat, just wandering around town as the sun goes down, looking for that last glint of gold.”

She gets three more steps before the penny drops and Blake is jogging to catch up to her.

“H-hey, don’t just leave with the flashlight! Your camera-- ugh, I mean… maybe we should head back to Beatty for the night?”

“Why? Scared of a floppy hat and brown blur?” He jerks up straight, flicking the camera off to close the photo viewer she knows shows him in front of the old barber shop, a brown blur next to him against the last dredges of a golden sunset.

“Of course not! Who do you think you’re talking to?” He swaps her the camera for the flashlight and she raises her eyebrows in amusement. “But, you know, Mak, if you feel the hand of a creepy old prospector on you, feel free to hold onto me. I’ll protect you.”

He punctuates this with a wink and Maka rolls her eyes, glad they’re back to normal, mostly.

“Oh yes, hold me. Please. Right now. Oh baby, oh baby,” she deadpans. He laughs and throws an arm around her anyway.

Despite her creepy story and the weirdness of waking up curled up together, they camp out in the backseat again, the wide expanse of stars hanging above. They stargaze and Maka tells more creepy stories until Blake proclaims he wants to sleep and scoops her up into the spooning position they woke up in that morning. He freezes, but Maka only soaks up his warmth and presses her cheek into her scarf they’ve folded and are using as a pillow.

“Your stubble is out of control, Star.”

“Wha?”

“It itches. You need to shave.” She reaches back to pinch his cheek, but she feels his grin against her neck and suddenly Blake is rubbing his face all over her neck and burrowing past the collar of her flannel shirt to get to her shoulder. “Ah, stop it, you weirdo!”

His laughter reverberates in his chest and into her back as he stops. He pulls her back against him on impulse, happy to have his arms around her again. Her hand that was hovering near his head flicks him on the forehead, but before he can protest, her nails blindly rake once through his hair. She tugs Mira’s blanket up over them and murmurs.

“Night, Star.”

The moonlight is just bright enough for him to see her neck exposed by his ministrations, hair pushed out of the way. Her hand lays close to the one he has wrapped around her and he lightly taps a finger into her palm.

“Sweet dreams, Maka.”


	6. Day 6: the loneliest road in america

No fog of uncertainty fell on the pair in the morning, but a literal fog rose from the ground, curling around tires and making eddies in the wake of their car. The docket had breakfast and gas in Beatty and a meandering path through Death Valley National Park for the morning. The fog was already burning off so stops longer than a few minutes for photos didn’t happen.

This year had produced a rather nice super bloom, coating the unforgiving landscape in yellows and golds. Maka thinks it’s gorgeous and that the redness blooming on her shoulders and knees match quite nicely, but the heat emanating from her skin is not so nice. She digs through her bag for a bottle of aloe, popping the cap as Blake continues to drive down the long and winding road.

The shuddering sigh that comes from his right takes Blake’s eyes off the road. His eyes are greeted with Maka’s hands rubbing across her shoulders and collar bones, leaving the skin beneath glossy over the rosy sunburn she’d accumulated. He can feel the heat rising into his face, racing across the bridge of his nose and he bites the inside of his cheek to try and stem it. It’s a sunburn, for fuck’s sake! His knuckles tighten around the steering column and he’s caught between looking at her and turning back to the road when sticky cold fingers touch his face, leaving behind a big glob of gel when he wrenches himself back with a yelp.

The skin beneath the goop is flaring with heat and shuddering with cold simultaneously as the hands return. “Hey, hold still and keep driving, you’ve got some sunburn on your face…” Maka’s seat belt strains with her reach and the blush he has intensifies as her fingers smooth over the planes of his face. He knows his ‘sunburn’ is worse than before and habit causes him to grab her wrists to take her out of his space. “Star, the wheel-!”

Their hands are a mess as Maka struggles against his grip to grab the steering wheel when the jeep swerves. There’s aloe everywhere and his hands are still viced around her wrists while he panics and presses the brakes. Somehow they end up stuttering to a stop on the soft shoulder, the tires kicking up dirt around the vehicle.

“Ugh, even on a straight road, Star…” she trails off as her hands unstick from the wheel, aloe smeared all over. Another moment passes with her hands in his in the space between their seats. Their pulses are thudding in the empty air and Blake’s thumbs absently rub into her palms. The flashback to being soaking wet and muddy at Great Basin flashes through Maka’s mind and she pulls away, ears burning. Her adrenaline is still thrumming full force in her veins and she’s shaking a little as she picks up the aloe and squeezes out some more before he yanks the bottle away.

“Let’s just finish applying this shit before we get back on the road, huh?”

Blake’s voice has an edge to it and he exhales a long noisy breath as he loads a dollop into his palm. His face is oddly serious as he brushes her hair away from her neck to get the patch exposed between her racerback tank and her hairline. Her hands linger just slightly on his shoulders, freckles barely distinguishable between the tan and sunburn. She wipes the extra goo off his face with a thumb, palm cupping his cheek. Blake clears his throat and Maka jumps in her seat a little, quickly busying herself with packing away the aloe and pulling out water bottles for them. A wipe from a Disney towel on the steering wheel and they’re back on the road.

-

“Do you think you’d ever leave Nevada?”

The question comes out of left field and Blake isn’t sure how to reply. He can see himself leaving for sure, but he’d need a reason and the easiest one was sitting to his right.

“Probably? I’d have to have a good reason and inform my work so they know where to send my checks, but I don’t think it’d be a problem if I did.”

“But… would you want to?” Something is off about Maka’s voice and as on their way to Vegas the other day, he gets the feeling that she’s fishing for a response from him that will validate something. The issue is what she wants him to validate. He’s pretty sure he got it wrong last time.

Without knowing how he is supposed to answer to stop her from feeling anxious, he can only respond honestly. “If I had a reason.”

She hums and falls silent, turning to look out the window. The way she leans her head on her hand strikes him as familiar and he flashes back to the first month of her internship, when he went to her house to drop something off for Spirit from Sid.

“You can put it on the table, Blake,” Spirit said as he let him inside. When he emerged, he found Spirit sitting on the rocking chair on the porch. “Have a seat and keep me company a minute. As I’m sure you know, my house is rather empty right now.”

The red-head tapped a pack of cigarettes on the wooden railing as Blake took a seat in the second chair. Spirit paused as he pulled out a lighter. “Don’t tell Maka.”

“Sure thing, Mr. A.”

“Oh don’t give me that. Just call me Spirit; you aren’t a little kid anymore.”

Blake slouched back in the chair and Spirit blew out a stream of smoke. “That’s true.” A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, watching the random car pass through the neighborhood.

“Ah… I miss my girl,” Spirit lamented.

“...I miss Maka, too,” Blake admitted. The past few weeks had been eating at him with the need to text her everyday, but out of respect for what she was trying to accomplish, for her taking a step away from their corner of Nevada, he held back.

“Blake, how long have you been in love with my daughter?”

The question jolted through him and he whipped his head around to see Spirit looking at the ashes he tapped off his cigarette without concern. Blue-green eyes flicked up to meet his and Blake just stared with his mouth open.

“I-I don’t- I mean, Maka is-” 

“No need to get all ruffled. I’ve known you since you were in diapers; it’d be strange if I didn’t see it coming,” Spirit said, mouth wrenching into a wry smile. “My Maka is adorable. I’d be insulted if you hadn’t fallen for her.”

Fully caught and not knowing what to say instead, Blake just shut his mouth and stared back out at the road. “Maka might be cute, but that’s not why. I think it’s more like I don’t know how to be without her around. She’s the first one I want to tell things to when they happen- since she left I find myself turning and saying her name only to find she isn’t there.” He turned back to Spirit who had yet to return the cigarette to his mouth. He met the man’s eyes steadily and took a deep breath. “I’m in love with her.”

Spirit held his gaze for a moment longer and then relaxed back into the chair. He took a long drag and blew all the smoke back out before responding.

“Maka’s starting to spread her wings and make her own way. She doesn’t need me for much at all anymore. Take care of my girl, Blake. As long as she’ll let you.”

Blake’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as Spirit’s words ring in his head as they had all summer. He appreciated the trust the man had put in him, but it was up to Maka who, if anyone, would be allowed to take care of her. He peeks to see that she’s still staring out of the passenger side window and he hopes she’ll pick him.

-

The scenery passes as brown, green and blue blurs as Maka’s focus falls away. She had been trying to watch for something interesting to shoot, but the lack of distinct features on this stretch of highway was not cooperating. The absence of inspiration swings her brain back around to things she tries not to think about like what will happen when this road trip is over. Blake has been silent over the past half hour even with the playlist still rolling. He didn’t even sing along to The Proclaimers which he always yelled at the top of his lungs.

She’s struck again with the feeling of dissociation from reality, like nothing that had happened in the past few days was anything other than a protracted dream on her last night in Vegas for her internship. But then again, everything has been so real- so very real that it hurts. And if it is real? Well, traveling and living out of a jeep isn’t something they can do all the time, to be this close. Does she want to continue this- whatever it is that ‘this’ is- this unfathomable feeling coalescing and rolling towards a cliff edge? Can she push it over the line, knowing it can’t return to the point they’re at now? Does Blake even know she’s at this point, that they’re at this point? Does she need to talk to him about it, could it be real?

There’s a straight and narrow path that Maka can follow, like the road before them. It holds their solid friendship and their lifetime of knowing each other. Is there another path they can take? One with blind turns and no map? If there is, surely it starts with the same long straight road they’ve been on. Maka hopes she can see a sign for the turn, if it exists. And if it exists, that she’ll be brave enough to turn the wheel.

-

They stop for the night at an inn in Fallon and Blake claims the shower first, claiming too much aloe left a crust of dried goo on his shoulders and neck. When he comes out of the bathroom, he finds Maka sitting in deep thought on the edge of the bed, staring past the little tv which is tuned to the weather channel. She doesn’t react when he flips the channel to some pro-wrestling and he frowns. Her shoulders are slumped and there’s an expression on her face like the skin and her eyes are being weighed down. He has no idea what the cause is. 

They’ve been having fun, right?

He thought so anyway. That they’d gotten past their mutual funks already. So he tugs lightly on one of her pigtails and tells her to take her turn.

“Hey, I left you more of the soap because you stink.”

She jerks like waking from a dream and he watches his words process on her face as it molds from surprise to indignance. “Me? How about you? If anything, I thought a shower was supposed to make you smell better, but I guess you should have used more soap-” she snatches a set of pj’s from her bag and pushes past him. “Because you still  _ reek _ !”

The bathroom door snaps shut and all is quiet in the room for a couple seconds before she sticks her head back out. “And I don’t stink!” The door slams again and when the shower creaks on and he hears her squeal at the lack of hot water he had discovered earlier, he puffs out a laugh and falls back on the bed. Whatever is bothering her… if it is really important, she’ll tell him.

The ceiling has a small crack in it in the corner that he contemplates for a moment. With a sigh, he flips the tv and bedside lamp off. Blake tucks onto his side, facing away from Maka’s side. He’s been getting too used to holding her in the night and he knows he needs to wean himself off of it. Some minutes in the dark later, the shower turns off and the mattress dips behind him. Maka is shifting around, restless, pulling on the covers and pushing them off alternately.

“You okay?” he murmurs. She stills, but he doesn’t turn to face her, clenching his hands into his pillow. After a moment, there’s a huff and more movement. He almost jumps when small hands tentatively curl into the fabric of his tank top. “Maka?”

Those hands flex twice before gripping harder and pulling. Something he thinks is her forehead presses against his back lightly.

“...hmm. Not really,” she murmurs.

“Not really..?”

“Night, Star.”

“...night, Mak.”


	7. Day 7: build me up, fill in the cracks

The deli they go to in the morning supplies them with lunch as well and after a quiet morning of driving and listening to tunes playing just barely over the wind, Blake pulls them off the road. The dirt path is almost too narrow for the jeep and Maka doesn’t even question him when she sees his expression. Blake is on some kind of mission.

The path eventually opens up to a space large enough to turn around in when he puts the dusty car into park. Maka can’t see the highway back down the path and she gets out of the car when he does. The area is totally silent and reflects the midday sun off the orange rock and dust. Blake walks forward into the middle of the clearing and stops, looking around. It takes just a second before he finds what he’s looking for. When he spits into his hands and rubs them together before picking up a large rock, Maka goes from perplexed to concerned.

“Star…? What are you doing?”

He ignores her, placing the large flat rock on some cleared ground. He goes for a second and a third as she continues probing and trying to puzzle out what in the new level of hell he is doing. No answer comes.

“Oh, screw it.”

She rips the car door back open and grabs their baseball caps from the glove compartment and shoves one on each of their heads. When Blake continues to not respond, she grabs her own rock to start her own tower.

They work in silence, each trying to figure out what is going on with the other. Maka, shifting like the sands, back and forth between her usual stubborn, snarky self and a withdrawn, unsure girl. Blake, walking on a devil’s bridge where a toe out of line will launch him into unknown territory, but a step on safe passage offers no other path. The tension of their relationship builds like the stony towers before them, separate until suddenly they’re building together without realizing it.

The middle tower is growing from both of their hands and is larger and taller than either individual tower. It looks like a weird variant of jenga and climbs too tall for more rocks to be put on top. All of this was done in silence until Maka picks up one more, about the size of a book and calls his name.

“Star…” He doesn’t turn around, so she tries again, a little louder. “Blake.”

She waves the rock in hand when he faces her. His expression is calculating, but he nods. Before she can blink, she’s scooped up on his shoulders, accidentally knocking off his cap. She stacks the rock, but Blake keeps crouching and standing up again, handing another rock to her until she literally can’t reach anymore. The mindless task has been soothing, but there’s little to be done now and they have to return to the real world again.

Blake backs up, still not letting her down. Her feet are curled around his sides under his arms and his dirty hands are hooked around her knees. The bright blue hair she tugs on is soft, if a little sweaty, and Blake’s head pushes into her abdomen as he looks up.

She offers him a smile, maybe not toothy or big, but it crinkles her eyes and she feels it down into her fingers that rest below his jaw and into her knees under his palms. Blake’s returning smile dimples his cheeks as he squeezes her legs before letting her down. They eat lunch in the shade of the car, admiring the tower that’s much bigger than either of them had managed to make alone. Maka takes a couple of shots of the pillars as Blake packs up. Before they get back into the car, Blake stops and looks at her from across the car’s hood.

“Are you really not okay?”

“I… think I will be.”

“If there’s something I can-”

“Star, you’re the best person in my life.” She shuts up after that, hopping in the jeep and closing the door. Blake watches her buckle in before he takes his seat. Nothing is said after that. As he backs up to turn around, his fingers touch the back of her neck through the gaps in the head rest.

-

Blake’s been pushing more boundaries than he ever has before, but he has Maka all to himself and she doesn’t push him away or tell him to stop. The light touches, the cuddling, the dances, and glances- he knows it isn’t consent, but he doesn’t know how to move forward without fearing it all being taken away. As he turns the wheel, he finds that they’re already in Carson City and they’ve again not spoken a word for the rest of the drive. He sighs to himself and signals to take the next exit for the hotels he sees in the distance.

Maka’s hand turns down the tunes. “We can camp again, right?”

By now, they both know camping means being cramped in the back of the jeep with little personal space.

So he nods and she suppresses a smile, turning the wheel back towards Lake Tahoe and turning the music back up.

-

They reach a campsite near the lake just at the last moments of sunset. Maka rushes down to the lake edge as Blake just barely gets the jeep in park, splashing in the shallows. The waters are freezing, but she clenches her teeth to keep from shrieking until Blake joins her in the twilight. He yelps at the temperature, but she grabs him, laughing, before he can get away.

“How do you feel about becoming a polar bear, huh, Star?”

“I- no. Mak, no. Don’t-!” He can see it coming when she shifts to lower her center of gravity to unbalance him, so he does the only thing he has left. He lets her throw him, but tackles her around the waist, sending them both careening into the water.

They come up sputtering and laughing through the cold. Blake shakes his head, whipping droplets everywhere. Maka splashes him back as the last dredges of sunlight abscond from the sky. After some play-fighting and flailing, the chill sets in their skin and grappling for the advantage becomes latching onto each other to sap any remaining warmth. The water laps quietly around their legs as Maka tucks her freezing arms between them and Blake relents to wrap his arms around her.

She can feel the pruning in the tips of her fingers, but the night is soft and the light of the moon settles around them like a thin veil. The wet clothes cling to their skin and Maka is certain she has gooseflesh not just for the cold, but for the man holding her. Blake’s jaw is twitching from the cold, but his arms are steady and his blue blue blue eyes are locked on hers. She isn’t sure who starts it, but her fingers curl into his soaked shirt, brushing against his collarbone and his hands flatten to slowly smooth up her back under her tank.

That’s what does it, she thinks, arching towards him and soaking in the heat of his palms makes her shudder in anticipation, sighing shakily with her fingers tracing up to the base of his neck. Blake pulls away, grabbing her hands and blowing on her fingers.

“You’re freezing! C’mon…”

In twenty minutes, Maka is dry and in flannel pyjama pants and a hoodie, but has never felt colder. The heat of Blake’s hands is gone and he’s preoccupied with stoking their campfire when she sits as far away as she can with her bag of marshmallows and a skewer. She could have let herself stay wet and cold all night if only Blake had continued. But he hadn’t so Maka can only assume the worst, that she’s building images in her mind that aren’t truth.

“Some of those are for me, right?” he asks, shadows flickering across his face from the flames.

Maybe she’s feeling a little petulant at the thought of being unwanted, of Blake pushing her away. She wants him to want to be near her, so she baits him. “Come over and get it then.”

Blake’s eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t hesitate. His walk towards her is somehow purposeful, with a weight that changing seats really shouldn’t have. It could have been the blanket cape hanging from his shoulders. It must be how he’s staring at her and not the marshmallows and how the angles of his face are lit by the fire. A trace of that heat comes back up her spine as he sits down on the log next to her.

His hip is (entirely unnecessarily) pressed against hers and she can’t look away from his eyes. Suddenly, she’s scooped up in his blanket cape, jostled around so her leg hooks over his. He uses it and her distraction to clamp a hand over her knee and bites an entire marshmallow off her skewer.

He grins and chokes around it, having burned his tongue a little, but it was well worth it. Maka’s face is stunned and the worn flannel is soft under his hand. Her hair is a damp mess and while he finds it cute, he knows she’ll hate it in the morning, and so offers up his wrist. There are two thin hair ties he’s somehow accumulated in his jeep over the many years of having her in his passenger seat and found while cleaning. They’re mismatched, one neon green and one royal purple, neither like the ‘blonde’ or white she’s been favoring lately.

She gets his meaning and pouts, stuffing more marshmallows on the stick, trying to ignore the peace offering. Blake just smiles fondly and pushes her face away, wrapping her hair into two messy buns. They’re a little lopsided, but they’ll do, he thinks. When she turns to face him, she’s got marshmallow stuck to her cheek and her bangs are a mess between the mismatched buns. He can’t help the cackle he lets out and she demonstrates her ire by eating the marshmallows she had roasted for him, thank you very much!

They continue making marshmallows, crisp on the outside and gooey on the inside, as their kindling burns down. They admire the stars and moon’s reflection on the lake until the squishy sugars are gone and Blake feels Maka completely boneless and breathing deeply, head knocked out against his neck and jawline. The arm holding the empty skewer is flopped across their laps where she has somehow hooked both legs over his knee.

“Just make yourself comfortable, why don’t you,” he murmurs, using his opposite hand and foot to tip a bucket of dirt into the campfire’s dying ashes. Carefully, he scoops Maka up in the woven blanket and carries her back to the car. The moon casts shadows on her face and he tugs her closer in the backseat. I need to tell her, he thinks, lips pressing into the crown of her hair.


	8. Day 8: so close (to mine)

Blake wakes to an impossibly bright sky. He groans as he shields his eyes and looks at his watch. It tells him it’s not quite 9 am, but his bladder is telling him it is well past time to get up and pee. The issue here becomes Maka, whose limbs are tangled with his and the blanket that is twisted around their legs. She’s got one arm vice-gripping his back and the other curled over her eyes to block out the light. Blake twitches, trying to extricate himself without waking her, but her fingers just dig deeper into his shirt.

“Mak, this is not the time for your clingy cuteness, okay?!” he mumbles, plucking blindly at her fingers behind his back. He’s almost free of her clutches when a noise distracts him and he slips. Blake ends up with a face full of car door and tumbles off the seat entirely. The motion pulls the blanket and he’s on his back awkwardly shoved between the seats on the car floor. Maka falls with it, yelping and suddenly awake but unaware. Her knee is in his gut and Blake groans. Maka hides her face in his shoulder, moaning about the sun’s audacity to be bright in the morning.

“Listen, Mak, this is reeaaally nice, but I super have to piss..!” he whines as Maka writhes against his renewed attempts to push her off him.

By some lucky chance, the next noise Blake hears is a small child’s voice. The young voice carries over their makeshift campsite and it causes Maka to bolt straight up in shock and embarrassment, drawing the blanket around herself, despite being fully clothed in a hoodie and long flannel pants. But the movement is enough and Blake squirms out from under her, leaping over the door without bothering to open it. He’s barefoot and clutching his crotch as he rushes past the startled family for the bushes. Maka sheepishly waves at the family as they cover their child’s eyes and pull him away from their jeep.

-

Their backpacks are full of water, breakfast bars and other random equipment as they set off to climb some of the nearby rock features. Unlike their hike in Great Basin, Blake insists he needs all the space for his gear and Maka will have to carry her own. She wonders what exactly is in there as they help each other up the boulders and across the loose rock. They take turns figuring out ways to scramble over rocks and spotting each other, offering a knee up or hand to pull on. When they reach a plateau, they find some pines to sit under. The tall trees provide welcome shade and smell amazing.

It’s at the moment she’s taking out some Gatorade and trail mix, contemplating the photos she could take from this vantage point, that Blake removes a large piece of fabric from his bag. Maka stares as the fabric becomes a trampoline-esque hammock that stretches between three of the pines. After tossing their bags on top, Blake flips up onto the hammock, stretching out in the shade.

She’s a little irked as she hoists herself up on it, rolling onto her back as she kicks him.

“You mean to tell me we’ve been sleeping in your car when you had this the whole time?”

“Uhh… it’s kinda cramped? Besides there weren’t trees in Rhyolite, anyway.”

“Great Basin, though? The back of your car is cramped, Star. This is just-” she cuts off as she rolls on her side to be face to face with him. “...cozy.”

Blake’s face twitches, before he swallows Maka up in a bear hug. “Time for a nap!”

“What-Star, no! It’s the middle of the day-”

“Ahh the sun is making me sleepy-”

“-at least have something to eat first?”

“But I’m too  _ cozy _ , Mak!”

Her arms are trapped between them and she drums a little on his collarbone as they fall silent. She breathes deep the scent of pine and iron and Blake and suddenly, she’s asleep, weightless on the trampo-tent, secure in his arms.

-

Blake lays back and watches the clouds pass overhead through the breaks in the canopy. He wonders when he should wake Maka up. She’s curled up into his side, a human furnace. He managed to pull out his iPod and has a headphone in one ear when Aerosmith comes on. Maka is shifting little by little in her sleep as he brushes her shoulder with his thumb absently. When she wakes, she pushes herself up a little and he laughs lightly, picking hair away from being stuck to her face by sweat. She’s leaning on his chest and side, still wrapped up by his arm she’d fallen asleep on.

“Whatcha listening to?” she asks, voice a little slurred by grogginess. When Maka napped, she napped hard.

“Steve Tyler’s sexy voice.”

She laughs and leans further in towards him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, wanna hear my impression?” The chords play in his ear, the bass drum as loud as his heart in his chest.

“Please.” Her eyes are full of mirth, enjoying their mild banter. The orchestral background swells with his emotion.

“I just wanna be with you, right here with you,” he speaks to the rhythm, softly, fingers still brushing against her shoulder and back. “Just like this.”

Her green eyes widen as he brushes hair over her shoulder, grazing her neck with his knuckles. He really doesn’t want to break the tension, but he’s scared, terrified, of rejection so he wraps her up in a crushing hold, sticking fingers into her armpits and tickling her as he overacts the next refrain. “I just wanna hoooold you clooooose!”

“Star, oh my g- ahahaha! Stop-apahahah!”

He does and he sticks the other headphone in her ear as she comes down from the tickle endorphins. The song is coming to an end as she realizes Blake is still hovering over her, forearms caging in around her head. Her heart is racing from the implications of his actions when the next track starts. Rick Astley starts crooning and she shoves her palm into Blake’s face, pushing him away as she groans and he laughs.

“Pizza?”

“Pizza. And showers.”

-

They drive up to Reno and find the most hole in the wall pizzeria they can, ordering a large pie and gorging on it. The cheese stretches too much and they have to use at least ten napkins a piece and keep getting new paper plates because of the grease, but it is just so good- the perfect post hike food. They reach across the table in silence, mouths too full to talk anyway, as they pick off toppings the other doesn’t like and put them on their own slices.

After Blake finishes the last of Maka’s crust, they reach the hotel for the night. Inside the room, there are two double beds. Maka tries not to think about how she has zero excuse to fall asleep in Blake’s arms as she puts her stuff on the bed near the window. They go about their nightly routines, seamlessly working around each other and bantering along the way. Maka breaks out the aloe again and Blake comments that he’s thankful they aren’t on the road this time. He applies it on her shoulders and the back of her neck as requested and she avoids touching his face, focusing only on the sections that he can’t reach.

Afterward, they flop on their respective beds and Blake flips the TV on. He’s got his feet up at the head of his bed while she sits up against her own headboard. The mere two feet feels like a chasm. The comedy on screen passes without her notice as she stares at the back of his head. He scratches his jaw and neck and the motion catches her eye.

“Star, did you shave?”

“Well, you were complaining so bad… Besides, I was starting to look like Sid with that five o’clock shadow.”

“It was a bit past five o’clock…”

“Gimme a break, I’m on vacation, Mak…”

“Now I don’t believe you did it.”

“What, you wanna check?”

There it was- an opportunity. “...can I?”

His eyes flick back to face her for the first time during the conversation. “Duh.”

She gets up and walks over, hesitating before touching his cheek as he looks up at her. Her hands smooth over his face and he can’t help closing his eyes. It feels like a century but not long enough, when she removes them and Blake opens his eyes. Maka shifts her weight side to side, twisting her fingers together. He swallows and builds up his courage.

“Want to sit?”

Automatically, she sits on the edge of her own bed, across from him, and he bites his lip and tries again.

“Um… over here?”

She jumps up with an ‘oh! Yeah…’ as he scoots over. Maka lays on her stomach next to him. He bumps her shoulder and they smile a little at each other while they watch movies. Their positions shift as the films roll on and the night grows long. His arm is draped over her shoulder and his head on hers as they lean back against his headboard. They’re both close to sleep, nodding off here and there. Eventually, Blake has the presence of mind to flip the television off. When the room goes silent, Maka moves to get up.

Blake’s hand squeezes lightly around her shoulder once.

“You don’t have to…”

“But, um… is this... Okay?” she whispers. Her heart is pounding as he pulls gently on her arm, grip easy to break if she wanted to. She follows his lead as he flips the light off and shuffles on the bed to lie down and make space for her.

“I even shaved, haha… um... Is it okay with you?”

She pulls the comforter around them and blushes hard as she hides her face in the pillow. She takes a breath when the nervous energy is basically rolling off of the man next to her. Maka tucks herself into his chest before she can take it back. “Maka?”

“...yeah.”

His arms wrap around and hug her firmly. Blake’s heart thumps hard in his chest against her palm.


	9. Day 9: the interval between reach and grasp

Maka opens her eyes blearily. Something is warm, sticky and smelly on her face. Is that.. Drool? She scrunches up her face in disgust, rubbing her cheek into Blake’s shoulder to get it off. His leg is heavy, wrapped around her hip like she’s a damn body pillow and both of her arms are trapped to his chest by his bear hug. Twitching, she wiggles around to extricate her arms and gain the proper grip, adjusting to have the center of gravity advantage she needs. Abruptly, she flips Blake off her, snatching the blankets back as he hits the ground between the beds with a thud.

She burrows into the bedding as his first yelps and screeches at his rude awakening eek out. Yet, as she puts her head on the pillow, she encounters more drool.

“Oh my gosh what the HELL were you dreaming of like that- a fucking buffet??” she screams, whipping the somewhat sodden pillow at the man on the floor, hitting him directly in his still stunned face. She swaths herself in the blankets again, hoping against hope she doesn’t encounter Blake’s saliva a third time. Blake stands and tosses the pillow to the other bed, leaning over the Maka-shaped blanket lump. “Don’t drool on me. I’m not food, dumbass!”

His mouth twitches when the lump speaks in muffled Maka-voice. Oh, he’d eat her up if given the opportunity, food or not. Instead, he says, “Well, you already look like a poorly wrapped burrito… Lemme help you with that, huh?”

He wrenches the sheets away and re-tucks them around his best friend as she squeals, still rubbing at the drool crust on her face. Once she literally cannot move, he leans over her grinning, one hand and one knee pressed into the mattress on either side of the tightly wrapped Maka.

“Let me out now, Star, or I swear-”

“No can do, burritos don’t talk except in my dreams!”

“Star, you better fucking let me out. Right. Now.”

“After I take a piss,” he croons, licking a hand slowly before he wipes it on her face. He pats her cheek twice as the action registers, but he’s off the bed and skipping to the bathroom when the screeching starts. There is a banging on the wall coming from their hotel neighbor, telling them to shut up, as Maka stews and tries to free herself.

The spit is drying on her face and she recalls vividly a baby-faced Blake claiming things as his own by licking them. She blushes in spite of herself and making the unintentional connection renews her vigor to escape. It’s then that she realizes he’s taken far too long for a piss. When Blake emerges a couple minutes later, so does the smell.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Only if you let me out.”

Blake gives her an appraising look, smirking. He tugs one section of the sheets and she’s suddenly free. She can’t use the bathroom until the fan disperses the smell another 10 minutes later.

-

As they hit up another drive thru, Maka is burning to beat Blake at something since the debacle of the drool that morning. Her hand hovers over the radio power button as they eye each other suspiciously. When her hand slams down, the music abruptly starts in the middle of a song and they rush to unbuckle and get out of the jeep. They run as fast as they can around the vehicle to the confusion of the other drive thru patrons, until the song comes to an end and the car in front moves up.

Maka’s got a hand on the driver’s door handle, but Blake grabs her roughly around the middle and shoves her through the opening into the back seat. Her legs hang over the edge as she splutters and screeches at him, but Blake just secures himself into the driver’s seat again, as if nothing was amiss. He reaches behind his seat to grab her ankle that is still sticking out of the jeep and pushes it in as he drives forward, cackling.

Maka’s ire may not be gone, but any tension is.

They slurp their iced hot chocolates and sing along with the mix tape gaudily as they coast towards Pyramid Lake. A kayak is just waiting to be rented and they dig out their rashguards and get their baseball caps out of the glove box. It’s only when the attendant at the rental shop glances between the two of them with a knowing look that they realize their guards match. They laugh as they bring the two-person kayak to the water’s edge.

Her camera is in its waterproof case as she snaps photos from her seat at the front of the kayak. On the lake, Maka paddles in the front while Blake does the steering in the back, occasionally sticking his paddle deep into one side to make them go in circles. Everything they’ve brought with them is packed into a built-in watertight cooler and Blake watches the back of Maka’s head. Her shoulders are relaxed even with the life vest on and her hair is messily tied up in a bun that sticks through the back of her cap. The back of her neck is prickled with sweat and Blake absently thinks she looks hot.

So he sticks the paddle harshly into the water, turning their little boat so hard that their cruising speed tips Maka out. There’s a splash and she bobs back up quickly as he laughs. SO much cooler.

“Think it’s funny, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean. You just looked a little hot to me.”

She quirks an eyebrow at that, a sly smile coming to her face as she pulls herself up on the side of the kayak. “Hot, huh?”

He’s backpedaling with his words and the kayak as her sly look turns a shade too smug, too evil, but he isn’t fast enough. Maka’s weight puts the kayak off balance and when he tries to compensate, she suddenly lets go, sending him flying out the other side. When he resurfaces, he shakes his head at her laughter, but joins in. Their banter continues as they swim the kayak over to shore.

The fishing rod they’d borrowed from the rental place is stuck in the sand by Blake, casting the line out with some worms a ways out into the water. It’s less than five minutes before he joins Maka over at the water’s edge where she’s skipping stones. Her practiced hand gets five or seven skips each stone, but Blake’s tosses plunk in the water loudly, not bouncing at all.

“Shouldn’t you watch the rod?”

“Nah, it’s boring anyway.”

Maka shrugs and tries to give Blake pointers on skipping stones, but nothing seems to be helping. Eventually she can’t stand watching his improper technique anymore and ends up stepping behind him, grabbing his wrist. Blake’s face reddens as she does so; her breath ghosts along his shoulder, not tall enough to speak closer to his ear. He tries for all he’s worth to pay attention to what she’s saying instead of how the soft underside of her forearm feels against his skin. He gets a couple good skips in, but as soon as Maka steps away, the knowledge leaves him.

“I guess it can’t be helped… wait, isn’t that the line?” she says, just over the whirring noise that started a couple seconds ago. The reel is spooling and Blake trips over himself to grab it. He hauls in a relatively large fish somehow and they stare at it. The picnic area grill isn’t that far.

One youtube tutorial later, they’re grilling it in foil for lunch.

Full of fish and the last of their chex mix, the duo sits at the water’s edge, the little waves lapping at their feet. Life vests are cast aside with the rest of their gear and they take a dip, floating and splashing around. They race each other, tugging feet and cutting each other off. When their fingers get pruny, they drag themselves out of the water and pack up. Maka calls napping on the kayak and tells Blake he can nap in the car, the sun’s rays sapping the energy out of them. He paddles slowly back to the rental dock, Maka tilted back nearly into his lap, her oar strapped into her vest in case she drops it as she dozes. Her hat is tucked down over her face, but he tries to keep the boat steady just in case she actually did manage to fall asleep.

Of course, once they’re back in the car, Maka gets behind the wheel and plays their mixtape on full blast. Blake finds no rest as the warm air whips his hair around and music blares. Their guards are wrapped around the jeep’s cage and they sit on the Disney towels in their swim suits.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Star.”

“You knew I’d let you sleep, but you won’t let me nap!”

“I figured if you were more tired, maybe you wouldn’t snore.”

“I don’t snore!”

The withering look she shoots him shuts him up with an undignified huff. She snorts and laughs until he gives in and laughs along with her. They cruise north, singing along to the tracks.

-

There is only one hotel even close to the Fly Ranch and Geyser. There’s no hope of car-camping as the geyser is on private property so they pull into the lot for the ranch-style hotel. The little bungalows sit in a row starting with the main office. The manager inside is nice enough, but seems like the kind of person who is always tired.

“Seems like quite a few people are coming through to visit the geyser this summer. We have rooms with bunkbeds and singles left. Which would you like?” he asks Blake, who hesitates. Maka catches the stall and in a moment of impulsive bravery, snags his pinky and tugs on it.

“A single is fine.”

-

There’s something different about tonight. Last night, Blake could put falling asleep together up to convenience and warmth, though that’s still suspect considering he had alternative motives for wanting her to stay. He likes having Maka in his arms. He likes having her near him and making her laugh. He thinks she’s the one he wants to annoy for the rest of his life. He knows he’s in love with her, has been for a long time. He told her father, for goodness’ sake! He barely recognizes he’s been thinking about her and what he wants from their relationship for so long until Maka emerges from the shower in her random shorts and tee, toweling her hair. The thought strikes him harshly that she looks just as good to him at this moment as she did when he saw her dressed up for their high school prom.

That’s it. She’s it for him.

If this blows up in his face, he has no idea what he’ll do.

“Don’t- don’t make this weird.” He nearly falls off the edge of the bed at her voice, not expecting her to speak.

“Weird? What’s weird?”

“I don’t know, Star… Just stop looking at me like you’ve never seen me before,” she murmurs, glancing at him as she hangs the towel over the back of a chair. “You have that face on like when you run into someone from high school you don’t remember.”

Unsure what to say, Blake hums and goes to brush his teeth, leaving Maka to her thoughts. When he gets back, she’s sprawled across the mattress haphazardly, a paperback book held above her face. Tomorrow is the last day of their trip and he knows he can’t let his feelings lie. He has no idea when he’ll get another chance. So he sits on the bed and pulls the book away gently.

“Hey, don’t put it down like that. Anne Carson doesn’t deserve-” Maka cuts off as a shadow falls over her from the bedside lamp. Blake is hovering over her, a serious look on his face. There is no noise except the crickets outside, the springs of the mattress under his shifting weight and their breathing. He can hear his pulse rushing in his ears at how utterly unguarded Maka is with him, how much he’s in love with her.

“You said I was the best person in your life,” he says, voice low and barely withholding his emotion.

“Um, well,” she unglues her tongue from her throat, heart thumping and pushing blood towards her face. “Star, that was…”

“You are, too,” he says, swallowing. “The best person in mine, that is.”

He’s so close. He really wants to kiss her, so very bad. But Maka just looks up at him with surprise so he just drops his head into the space between her shoulder and neck. She has no idea what to say or if saying anything is even right. Slowly, her arms come up around him. While Blake is heavy, she lets him stay where he is, sprawled on top of her. The weight is almost comforting, but it is the heat of his palms as his arms squeeze between her back and the mattress that has her tightening her hold around this important person. They fall asleep listening to each other’s heartbeats, slowly matching tempo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title came from the following quote:   
> “Eros is an issue of boundaries. He exists because certain boundaries do. In the interval between reach and grasp, between glance and counterglance, between ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too,’ the absent presence of desire comes alive. But the boundaries of time and glance and I love you are only aftershocks of the main, inevitable boundary that creates Eros: the boundary of flesh and self between you and me. And it is only, suddenly, at the moment when I would dissolve that boundary, I realize I never can.”   
> ― Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet


	10. Day 10: don't let go

Maka almost doesn’t want to get up. They shifted in the night and when she wakes, she is half on top of Blake, pressing into his chest from a deep sleep. One of his arms is splayed out on the other side of the bed with the other arm tucked around her lower back. His hand is under her shirt hem and the scantest tops of her shorts over her hip. The texture of his palm on her skin has her flashing back to standing under the moonlight at the lake. She had really thought he would close the gap and kiss her, but he had held back. The same had happened last night and she knows now that he won’t push forward without permission. 

She has to initiate any relationship at that level herself, but the prospect of tipping over the edge is terrifying. For however comfortable she is with Blake, the last pieces of her heart that she hasn’t given to him are the most fragile.

Unfortunately, the tour they scheduled for today starts early so they need to get up and going. As Maka starts to push up and away, Blake’s hand tightens.

“Don’t.”

His eyes are still closed as she pauses. Dark eyelashes match the roots of his hair and she spends a minute counting freckles before trying to reason with him.

“We have to get up for that tour, you know,” she says, watching his relaxed face. When his eyes don’t open, she pouts a little. “This is the last stop on our grand adventure.”

A small sigh passes his lips as she watches. “I know. So let’s just stay here a minute more.”

Maka relents and lays back down, arms folded under her chin on his chest. She would just have to lean up a couple inches to kiss his chin. The urge to do it itches her and her fingers twitch with restraint. She moves with his slow, deep intake of breath and his eyes open, immediately locking on hers in the pale morning light. Just like at the lake, just like last night, his hand flattens on her bare back. He reaches up with his other hand to tuck some of her bedhead behind her ear. She has no way of knowing if the pounding in her chest is from herself or him.

She feels a near magnetic pull, lost in blue eyes half-shielded by dark lashes. His gaze sweeps over her face slowly, as if trying to memorize it, sleep-mussed and lit by the sunlight filtering through the blinds. His fingers are still tangled in her hair as she whispers his name. He cradles the back of her head and hums, bending forward and kissing her forehead. In the same motion, he gets up and slips her into a sitting position.

“Gonna take a shower, then let’s get going, right?”

She touches her forehead as he pads across the room. “Star?” That moment was too intimate to ignore… right?

He looks over from the doorway, grinning a little too wide. “Your hair is adorable, Mak.”

“My hair..?” She touches it tentatively as he disappears around the corner to the bathroom. Her phone camera shows the ashy blonde sticking up in multiple places with weird waves in every direction and it looks like some of it was clumped together. “Star, you better not have drooled in my hair again! Blake Sterling, you get out of the shower right now so I can wash out your spit, you heathen!”

All she gets is a sort of choked laughter from behind the wooden door.

-

The drive up to the Fly Ranch is quick with only enough time for Blake to drown out Maka’s continued complaining about the possible drool in her hair with badly singing various theme songs. His impressions are getting increasingly worse until she gives in and starts belting out the theme song to Naruto with him. When they arrive, the rest of the tour group is already gathered at the meeting point. They check in quickly and the guide starts to take them on the path from the ranch to the geyser.

“Welcome to the Fly Ranch! Obviously, you are all here to see the rainbow geyser here on property. My name is Lukas and I’ll be your guide today,” a pleasant-looking redhead says. He isn’t terribly tall, but his smile is gentle and Maka finds herself pulling Blake to the front of the group to listen. “The Fly Geyser is five feet tall, but still growing. Does anyone know what type of geyser it is?”

“A cone.” Maka doesn’t even realize she’s spoken until the man’s eyes drift over to her.

“Yes, that’s correct, though more often, I get ‘accidental’!” he chuckles. “This geyser was created accidentally during well drilling in 1964 trying to find geothermal energy sources. Improper capping let dissolved minerals rise and collect to create the travertine mound the geyser sits on. It will continue to grow so long as there is a flow.”

As the group followed Lukas down the dirt road, he continued throwing out various facts about the geyser and its 30-something pools. It turns out that the coloring was not due to the many different minerals that comprised the structure, but thermophilic algae, attracted and fed by the heat. The ranch sits on the Hualapai Flat which has various subterranean volcanic activity that produce features like the Fly Geyser.

Blake watches and listens as Maka manages to squeeze in as many questions about the place as she can. Her pigtails bounce with her steps as she walks practically at Lukas’ elbow. Her eyes sweep over the landscape avidly, picking out shapes and colors that she finds interesting. He can practically see her cataloging the experience in her head.

Eventually, though, Lukas ran out of facts to give her.

“What do you do with a dead geologist?”

“I don’t know.”

“...Barium.”

Maka’s laughter reaches Blake’s ears and he quickens his step to fall in line with them.

“Wanna hear a mountain joke?” she says, a happy lilt in her voice. Lukas opens his mouth, but Blake cuts in knowingly.

“Nah, he won’t get over it.” The surprise and amusement on Lukas’ face is the icing on the cake to Maka’s laugh and her hand grabbing onto the crook of his elbow.

“Miss Maka, mountains aren’t funny… They’re hilarious.”

“Oooh! You catch that one, Star?”

“Haha, yep. Hey, did you know that geologists are actually really athletic?”

“No, that has to be a generalization. Where did you hear that?”

Lukas backs him up with a quick glance over Maka’s head, smirking as he says, “He probably read it in Quartz Illustrated.”

Blake guffaws as Maka looks between the two of them. Her fingers flex against his arm, tugging so they bump shoulders.

“Really, some jokes just flourite over my head.”

“My sediments exactly!”

-

Maka stands off to the side to take photos when Lukas is done with his mini-lecture on proper geyser-guest etiquette. Mostly he just told them not to touch anything and to stay on the paths provided. The shape of the geyser and its unique coloring is positively intriguing. Behind her, Blake alternates between watching Maka and admiring the geological wonder. He turns when there’s a tap on his shoulder to see an older couple smiling at him.

“We don’t mean to bother you, son, but I just had to say that your girlfriend is very cute. Quite quick on the uptake, too,” the woman says, smiling.

“Maka isn’t- that is, we aren’t, you know-” he splutters and the man claps him on the back, with a far too knowing grin.

“Sure, right now, anyway. You look good together,” he says. Blake can only scratch the back of his head awkwardly in embarrassment.

“Thanks, I guess.”

The couple chuckles and the woman squeezes his hand in the way a grandmother might to reassure their grandkid. “Be sure not to let that one go.”

The pair departs and Blake manages to keep his bashful smile until they fully turn their backs to him. The expression falls away after that, as the comment drops another anvil on his heart. Maka is going to be gone in a month. Her pre-program orientation starts shortly after she moves and with her schedule filling up rapidly and her uncanny knack for studying too much, he worries that even Skype won’t cut it for him. Even if they aren’t together romantically, the gap between their lives will widen and his best friend will soon be out of reach.

Their guide walks by, checking on everyone and answering questions, and Blake grabs his attention. Maka is still lining up shot after shot of the geyser, the rainbow colors sparkling in the air in a fine mist.

“Hey, can you take a photo for me?” Lukas responds affirmatively and Blake jogs over, pulling the camera out of Maka’s hands and from around her neck. She turns around as he hands it off to the guide. When his arm slings over her shoulders familiarly, she gets the gist, but their positioning is apparently not good enough.

“At least act like you like each other, you know?” he teases, snapping a photo.

An evil giggle sounds near her ear and Maka is suddenly swooped up into Blake's arms. She grabs Blake’s shirt out of surprise, letting loose an expletive. He shifts her in his grasp and grins down at her.

“It’s for the photo, stupid,” or so he says, seeing as he doesn’t turn to look back at the lens. Well, she isn’t looking at it anymore either, grabbing his chin before she really thinks out her next move. She yanks him down and presses a kiss forcefully to his cheek.

“Had to make it look like we like each other, right?” she mocks, trying to rationalize herself and compute his slack-jawed expression simultaneously. At the lack of response, she quirks a wry smile. Had she been reading him wrong all week? She closes his mouth with the hand still touching his chin. Maka has never been a coward, far from it. Her feelings are unraveling into the sparkling mist around them and she doesn't want to stem them anymore. “Shame I actually do like you.”

“You do?”

She turns away as much as she can, squirming under his gaze and beginning to regret saying such a thing while he was carrying her. Her throat constricts around a second confession and she knows her courage has run away with her impulse control. Blake's hands are clamped around her shoulders and knees tightly and there is no way to escape without both of them getting hurt. “Do I really need to repeat myself?”

Her face is burning in the moments before he seems to come to some internal decision. Slowly, he puts her feet down, keeping her locked to his chest with the arm around her back. Her hands continue to twist into his shirt even as she looks away, legs itching to put some space between them or give out. Blake cups her chin and points her gaze back to him.

“I’m coming with you to San Francisco.”

She startles at the non sequitur. “Well, if you want to help me move-”

“No, Mak. I mean yes, I will help you move in and all that, but… I want to go with you. Wherever you go.” His eyes burn into her like he’s trying to see into her soul and her hands start to shake, hoping that this means what she thinks. She grips his shirt tighter to conceal the tremor as both of his hands run over her cheeks. “I want to find greasy pizza joints with you, nap with you while hiking, bug you to stop studying, save your eyes from late night reading, listen to your bad car karaoke, camp out in the back seat of a car for a few days… with you.”

He swallows, fingers inching into her hair, cradling her face gently as she presses herself ever closer to him.

“I want to do that, and everything else, with you and only you.”

Her heart is racing, throat closing up as she tries to inscribe those words into her very being. “Star…”

“I love you, Maka. I have for a long time, but after this- after this trip, I just…” She pushes herself up onto her toes and tugs him down, lightly pecking his lips.

“I don’t want to let you go, either,” she says with a tremulous laugh. His fingers flex in her hair as he processes her response, tightening when she lays another light kiss on the corner of his mouth. When she backs up, he’s beaming down at her, glowing like he is an actual star.

Blake scoops her up, laughing as he spins her around. She pushes his face away, laughing too, until they notice the tour guide is gone. Maka’s camera is on the ground, red light blinking to indicate rolling film. Just over the ridge, the rest of their tour group watches as Blake slowly lets her down. Her feet touch the ground, but Blake keeps her pressed into him, not that she's letting go. The group cheers and claps, but the old lady from the couple he spoke to before yells out at them.

“You call that a kiss?!”

Blake could never back down from a challenge, but it is Maka that grabs his face and pulls him down. Not to be outdone, he twists her waist and shifts his knee to support her, dipping her so low her pigtails touch the ground. Kissing her would never be enough; he could never picture himself getting tired of her lips and, oh man, her tongue… but air is essential and when he requires more breath than he can take from his nose, he pulls back. It’s with some great satisfaction that he notes Maka following his motion as if to continue their kiss.

When they right themselves, the old couple, tour guide and some other friendly folks have their phones out, taking their own photos. They untangle themselves, but Blake keeps her hand, twining their fingers together and kissing her knuckles. Maka blushes and squeezes his hand. She picks up the camera and turns the video off, making sure it saves. On impulse, she points it back at them in a selfie and they grin at the camera. After the first photo, she turns and smooches his cheek again. She can feel his cheek muscles pulling harder into a bigger grin and clicks the shutter button again.

At the hillcrest, the elderly man comes up with his wife and pats Blake on the back. Someone breaks out a bottle of champagne and Lukas runs back up to the ranch to get some cheese and crackers, ready to let the group hang around and watch the sunset. Golden hour strikes the landscape and paints the sky in vibrant colors. Maka watches Blake over the rim of her glass as he speaks to the others in their group. His thumb draws circles on her hand where he has yet to let go for more than plucking two glasses of champagne for them. When there is a break in the people who want to talk to them about their dramatic kiss in front of the geyser, he tugs her closer and crowds near her.

It’s almost like he’s trying to narrow his focus from the world to just her and Maka feels a flutter in her chest. Blake mimics her pose, pressing his glass to his mouth but not drinking. He can’t hold a straight face, though, and grins, silly and open. She can’t help but return it. After a moment, she reigns it in.

“Did you mean it? Mean it that you’ll come with me?” Her thoughts tumble out in a mess, the stopper of a confession gone. “I mean, what about work? And Sid? I don’t know if the place I found is big enough- what if we hate living together? What if we-”

“Mak.” He takes her glass and sets them both down quickly. His blue eyes never leave hers, even though she’s having trouble looking up at him now. Hands cup her face warmly and she automatically raises hers to cover his knuckles. He gives her head a tiny shake and she squeezes his hands. “As soon as we get home, I’ll talk to my manager and HR. I already work from home. I doubt there would be much issue aside from where they send my check.”

“But what if you need to go-”

“If I need to go somewhere on business, it’s just a trip.” He tugs on a pigtail, her hand still clutching his. “And if I need to be physically present or transfer or something, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let me take care of you.”

There isn’t an ounce of a lie in his voice or his eyes; just the look he’s been giving her for years that she hadn’t been able to place until now. She feels adored and she hopes that her fondness for him is reflected the same. I love you.  _ I love you, Maka. _ I love you. It rings in her head as her tension wilts and she presses her face into his hand, humming against his palm.

Blake tugs her forward and wraps her in a hug. They stay like that for a moment, reveling in the closeness, until Blake tucks his mouth next to her ear and whispers mischievously.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He makes a show of looking around ‘surreptitiously’ and pulls her by the hand back to the jeep like they’re on the run, on some secret mission. She smothers her giggles and tries not to trip as they race to the jeep. Blake slides halfway across the hood of the car before he has to scoot the rest of the way to the driver’s side. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and the first cool hues of night cover them as they buckle in.

“Star, I… I’m still nervous. Nervous about this move, grad school… but knowing you’ll be there…. It means so much to me,” she breathes in and holds it. Her eyes are seeing sparks from squeezing them shut so tightly. She releases her breath and opens her eyes. “About you, Blake, I…”

The blues and purples of twilight smooth out the features of his face, blending his freckles away. The shallow curve of a gentle smile graces his lips. “You don’t have to say anything now if you’re not sure. My feelings won’t change. I’m ready to wait until you know.”

She leans across the center console, their seat belts reeling out as he ducks to meet her. Their kiss is new, soft and tempered; that feeling of adoration welling in her and prickling her eyes. In the still summer air, she can hear the quietest shuddering sigh from his lips as they part. She holds his face near, not ready to say her next words louder than a whisper.

“I will. Just… not now. I’m-”

“That’s totally cool,” he murmurs, nuzzling against her cheek. Her apology was cut off, but Blake seems adamant to make sure she has nothing to feel sorry for. She feels his grin as he loudly smooches her cheek and pulls away. “Now let’s beat it!”

The jeep roars to life, blaring another pop music selection from the Road Trippin’ playlist. They pull out of the parking spot, getting swept up into the fast rhythm, laughing. Blake and Maka drive off into twilight towards home, stars and moon winking down at them and the home they’ve found in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! If you made it to the end, THANK YOU for reading this ridiculousness. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this and bouncing ideas with Nessie. Until the next big bang! <3


End file.
